


Too Sick, Too Fast

by honeyhoneybee



Series: The Immunocompromised Luther Diaries [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Coughing, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Good Brother Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt Luther Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Sibling Bonding, Sick Character, Sick Luther Hargreeves, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 21:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyhoneybee/pseuds/honeyhoneybee
Summary: All Klaus wanted to do was play some music to escape the torture of his mind. Leave it to Luther to get in the way of that.OR: Luther is really sick and Klaus doesn't believe him and he kind of of acts like a dick. But then Klaus realizes (with some help from Ben) that Luther really is that sick, and worries that something more serious might be the cause.(This is the first time Luther gets sick in the Immunocompromised Luther universe! Takes place a few days after the Almost Apocalypse.)Rated T for language.





	Too Sick, Too Fast

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over a month ago and it's very inconsistent with canon because it's after the events of S1 yet Grace is mentioned as still being alive yet there's no age regression or anything like that. In my mind I guess they could have rebooted her somehow. :P
> 
> Also no cell phones = pagers instead!
> 
> ALSO: I've roleplayed a prompt similar to the start of this on omegle (hence the texting lmao) like literally a million times and this Fanfic is probably heavily based at least in some part on other people's responses on there. If you feel like your content is in here and you want credit please call me out on it because I will absolutely give you credit!

Klaus danced freely in his room, one of Allison’s skirts billowing around his knees with every movement as he hummed along to the Fleetwood Mac he was blasting from his stereo. Music was really helping him with this whole sobriety thing.

The only thing putting a damper on his mood was Luther and his stupid cold.

Luther: turn the music down

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop dancing as he typed up a response on his pager.

Klaus: come on you love music! i put it on to make you feeeeel better

Luther had been sick for about three days, and though he was putting on a show of denial (“No, I’m just tired,” “No, it’s just a little cold, don’t get Mom,” “Worry about yourself, Klaus, you’ve got bigger problems”), Klaus was convinced that underneath the act he was milking a tiny case of the sniffles into the plague.

An ear-shattering sneeze from the other end of the hallway confirmed his suspicion; Luther had never sneezed like that before, even when he had that sinus infection when they were seventeen. Now all of a sudden his sneezes were ten times louder – and he was doing it constantly, too. Klaus had never known his brother to be a very sickly or sneezy person, but now it was like he was trying to set a new world record.

The sneeze was followed by a pained groan. That was one thing that really tipped Klaus off; every twenty minutes or so, Luther would groan like he was on his deathbed. Klaus just rolled his eyes every time he heard it. He was the dramatic one?

Luther: well its giving me a headache so good job

Klaus didn’t buy that for one second. Luther was just being a big baby because he didn’t feel well; if he couldn’t be happy, no one was allowed to be. Or maybe he was just that starved for attention after being alone for so long, that he wanted to start drama. Whatever it was, it was annoying and it was totally killing Klaus’ vibe. And now Luther wanted him to turn off his music, his one remaining sanctuary? No way, Jose.

Klaus: come to my room and dance the germs away!

Klaus tossed his pager down onto the his bed and spun around wildly, skirt whirling around his knees until finally he grew dizzy and had to sit on his bed. Just as his pager beeped again; Luther had taken an uncharacteristically short amount of time to respond (large fingers are’t very conducive to using pagers).

Luther: you know i can still crush your stereo with my little finger

Klaus snorted. Good ole Number 1 resorting to violence, what a shock. That right there was all the proof he needed that Luther was just fine. In response to the text, he turned the music up a few notches, and sang along at the top of his lungs as he danced around his room again.

“Klaus.”

Klaus turned around to look at Ben, who was shooting him a reprimanding look from the corner.

“What’s the dealio?”

“You know, you’re being kind of shitty.”

“What?” Klaus held a hand up to his ear. “I can’t hear you, brother, this music is sooooo loud!”

“Klaus,” Ben repeated. Klaus heaved a sigh and waltzed over to his stereo.

“Relax! I’m turning it down, see?” He turned the music down just a notch, only to immediately hear another harsh sneeze from Luther’s room not seconds later. Even Ben flinched. Klaus just chuckled and picked up his pager.

Klaus: i think that sneeze just broke something in Five’s room.

“What did you say?”

“I asked if he was okay.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not lying!” Ben came around his shoulder and read the screen before he could shut it off.

"Really, Klaus?”

“What, it was funny!”

Luther: shut up

Klaus grinned down at his pager.

“He wants me to shut up? Okay.” He turned the music up even louder than he had the first time, but still not loud enough to cover up the groan that sounded from Luther’s room. This time, it was followed by painfully raspy whine.

“Stoooop!” Yelling was probably not the wisest choice for Luther, as it was followed by a harsh, chesty coughing fit; you could practically hear the mucus rattling in his chest from across the hall. Klaus actually cringed. He avoided eye contact with Ben, knowing exactly what look he was giving him.

“Go check on him.”

“What? Why can’t you?”

“Go.”

Klaus huffed and went back over to his stereo, turning the music off completely. He wasn’t in the mood to dance anymore; thanks, Luther. He flopped down onto his bed and picked up his knitting. 

After a few moments of silence, he was interrupted by yet another groan from Luther’s room. But unlike the previous ones, there was a tiny whimper at the end. Oof, that did not sound like Luther. Maybe he exaggerated sometimes, but he wasn’t a whimperer.

“Go check on him now or I’ll start screaming,” Klaus opened his mouth to protest, but Ben held a phantom finger up to his lips. “And I won’t stop until you do.”

“Ugh, fine!” Klaus heaved a sigh and got out of bed, padding down the hallway to knock on Luther’s door. 

“Luther?”

Klaus paused in the doorway for a beat; maybe Luther had fallen asleep. He was just about to leave when a hoarse, barely audible “…come in” sounded from within. Jesus Christ, Luther had just yelled at him not five minutes ago. Whatever, he might as well play along.

Klaus toed the door open, and peered inside with a melodramatic flinch; Luther was sitting hunched over at his desk, wrapped up in a blanket with his head buried in his arms. A few inches from his head lay whatever book he must have been reading, reading glasses hanging off the side (probably sneezed off at some point).

Slowly, Luther lifted his head and spun around on his swivel chair to face Klaus. He looked up at him with tired, unfocused eyes. He was pale as a sheet, and he was shaking. He looked truly miserable. Klaus’ brow furrowed in concern and confusion for a moment. Was Luther telling the truth? Was he seriously this sick? There was no way. Logically, it made no sense. It had progressed way too fast, and it was lingering way too long. Klaus had been sick enough times to know it didn’t work like that.

A shiver coursed its way through Luther’s body as the cold air from the hallway seeped in.

“C-close the door?” His teeth were chattering. Seriously? There was no way that was a hundred percent genuine. 

Klaus wasn’t going to waste his time worrying over Luther when he was clearly putting on a show of exaggerating his symptoms – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t play along. He shut the door and flounced into the room, sitting on the edge of Luther’s bed.

“Christ on a cracker. You look like death, Lulu. And believe me, I know.” Luther just groaned in response, that same whimper-y groan, and put his head back in his hands, not looking up at Klaus. “You really should let me get you some orange juice, you know. Ooh! Or brandy! Isn’t that what they used to give babies when they were sick in,” he gestured dramatically, “…the olden days?”

“Well I’m not a baby, so I don’t know, Klaus!” Luther snapped, whiny tone ironically making him sound pretty akin to the baby his brother had just not-so-subtly implied him to be. The hoarse half-shout ended in a wheeze, and another shiver worked its way up his spine. He still didn’t look up at Klaus from his hands.

Klaus bit down on his lip; you can’t really fake a wheeze. Goddammit, Luther better not actually be this sick, because if he was, then there was something going on beneath the surface that was very, very wrong. And Klaus didn’t want to think about that possibility.

Klaus was pulled out of his thoughts by a sharp intake of breath. He watched Luther steeple his hands over his nose and duck forward with a stifled sneeze, followed by a practically inaudible whimper as he brought his hands up to his temples. Klaus flinched.

“Did that hurt?” he asked softly, guilt washing over him in waves when Luther just nodded behind his hands and whimpered again.

Shit.

Klaus’ head tipped to the side as he crawled across the bed to sit on the edge closest to Luther. Leaning over, he reached out and touched the back of his hand to Luther’s forehead as best he could. 

He gaped at he warmth he felt radiating off his brother’s clammy forehead. He instantly pulled away his hand when he saw how Luther flinched away from his touch with another shiver and curled in on himself even further.

“Your fever hasn’t broken yet?” He was shocked and more than a little awed. He had really thought Luther was exaggerating, at least to some extent. Now he couldn’t suppress the concern that seeped into his voice. “You really are sick, aren’t you?”

He slid off the bed and approached his brother, until:

“Did you think I was making it up?!” Luther snapped in response, whining hoarsely into his hands; as if Klaus needed to feel more guilty. And just like earlier, yelling triggered another violent coughing fit. He swiveled his desk chair backwards, turning away from Klaus, and buried his face in his arms on his desk as the convulsions continued to seize his body.

Klaus just stood there like an idiot, feeling like he’d just won an Asshole Of The Year award. Finally, after moments of deliberation, he put a tentative hand on Luther’s back.

He expected him to flinch away again, but instead Luther let him remain there until it was over. And when it finally was over, he whined and mumbled pathetically into his arms.

“Klaus, I don’t feel good.”

Klaus moves his hand up to Luther’s shoulder and squeezed.

“I know, buddy."


End file.
